


bewitched

by tootsonnewts



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: And Failing, M/M, Witch! Lance, lance out here tryna hide his secret, like you do, psychic! shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 07:18:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14015097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tootsonnewts/pseuds/tootsonnewts
Summary: “Lance? Are you okay?”Fuck. It’s Shiro.“Y-Yeah, dude! Just gimme a second! I, uh, dropped something?”Fucking good one. Way to go. Just really make it convincing, you walnut.Shiro chuckles from the other side of the cottage door.lance has a secret, shiro has a question





	bewitched

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Taycake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taycake/gifts).



> this was a follower milestone gift drabble for taycake that i took three months to write because i'm the WORST  
> also, i've never written shance before so this was a fun new thing for me to try!
> 
> here we are, though!  
> i hope you enjoy it!

A light knock on the door breaks Lance’s concentration, sending the books and decanters he’d been floating around the room crashing to the floor.

“ _Shit_ ,” he hisses through clenched teeth, scrambling to right everything. “Ah, just a minute!”

He flicks his wrist, gesturing about the room with long fingertips, watching carefully as each glass container reassembles itself and perches back on the designated shelves, books following closely behind. The knock at his door gets louder.

“Lance? Are you okay?”

_Fuck. It’s Shiro._

“Y-Yeah, dude! Just gimme a second! I, uh, dropped something?”

_Fucking good one. Way to go. Just really make it convincing, you walnut._

Shiro chuckles from the other side of the cottage door.

“Well, do you want help cleaning it up?”

“No man, I’m good! Lemme just finish up!”

The door handle jiggles in place as Shiro tries to let himself in, only to be met by Lance’s nearly obsessive need to keep the door locked at all times. Lance flourishes his hand, settling the final book in its place.

“Shiro, buddy. Patience yields focus, right?”

“Oh, well that’s not fair,” Shiro huffs from outside. “Can I please come in now?”

“Yeah yeah, hold on.”

Lance ambles to the door, taking his sweet time,  _thank you very much_ , and turns the lock. Shiro stands on the porch, hands clasped together in front of him. He’s the very picture of practiced ease, standing with relaxed posture and unassuming gaze. Lance knows him better, though. His fingers, both human and metal, twitch ever so slightly in their own grip. His biceps flex minutely beneath his clothing. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other in gentle turns of his hips.

“Shiro. You’re fidgeting. What’s up?”

Shiro’s face goes slack for just a moment before he reigns it back in. He gives Lance a sheepish smile, which is honestly the worst. Lance is such a sucker for that smile. It makes him melt every time.

“You gonna let me in, or do we gotta talk on the porch?”

Lance smirks up at him, clenching the wood of his carved front door a little too tight for comfort. Something is off about Shiro today, and though he can’t quite put a finger on it just yet, it makes him nervous.

“I suppose,” Lance answers, drawing out the final syllable. He steps aside to let Shiro follow him in to the kitchen. “You want some tea or somethin’?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Shiro answers. Lance can hear the soft smile on his voice. There’s definitely something up and Lance is going to get to the bottom of it. He traipses further into the house, heading directly for his pantry and the shelf where he keeps his most prized teas, his special selection. If there’s one thing he knows of to get people to talk, it’s that dragonleaf green he keeps for only the rarest occasions. He finds the tin he’s searching for and scoops it up, walking back into the kitchen to start a kettle boiling.

“So,” he begins, dropping the tea next to the stove and turning in place. He leans back against the counter, bracing his hands on the edge to peer down his nose at Shiro. The other man is perched on the edge of a stool at the kitchen island, drumming his fingers against the butcher block. He’s paying Lance no mind at all, just sort of staring off into the middle distance with glazed eyes.

It’s worrying, how cute Lance finds the expression.

He shakes his head, putting a pin in the thought to examine further at a later date. Shiro snaps out of his thoughts at the same time, gazing curiously up at Lance through his tuft of shock-white bangs.

“You gonna tell me what’s up?” Lance finishes.

“I. Ermm,” Shiro stumbles. It’s another peculiarity, Lance thinks. Shiro is never anything but sure. He’s never less than confident when choosing his words. It’s sometimes why he takes so long to speak in certain situations. But when he does, each sentence is structured carefully, exactly how he wants it so there can be no mistaking his meaning. Now, Shiro stutters and fumbles along, opening and closing his mouth with no clear direction.

“Okay,” Lance says, leaning forward to prop his forearms on the old island. He peers down into Shiro’s confused eyes, trying to read him without being obvious. The only person that knows about him is Hunk, and he’s pretty keen to keep it that way for now. “Okay, how about this. You tell me what’s on your mind without trying to make it sound all nice and stuff, and we’ll go from there. Is that good?”

Shiro pauses, narrowing his eyes slightly up at him.

“Yeah,” he breathes out finally. “Yeah.”

Lance smiles, reaching out to squeeze Shiro’s hand across the countertop. Shiro’s eyes flutter closed in response and he takes a deep breath. When his eyes reopen, they’re full of determination.

“I know what you are.”

_Well, shitsticks._

“Shiro, I don’t-”

“You’re gifted. You have the ability.”

Lance’s blood leaves him, pooling somewhere in the bowels of hell, he’s pretty sure. His whole body goes rigid and cold with the loss.

“Shiro, really, I don’t know-”

“You do, though,” Shiro says fiercely. “You do because I hear it.”

Lance stops short.

“You what?”

“I hear it on you. I see it when you move. You’re not very quiet or subtle, you know that, right?”

Lance jerks upright, slamming his palms down on the counter.

“Shiro, I’m gonna need you to be extremely clear with what you’re saying here.”

“I-I have the sight. Kind of? I can hear and sense things others can’t. I’ve sort of been…listening in on you for a while?”

_Okay, that’s not creepy._

“Yeah, yeah I know it’s creepy.”

“So what does that mean?” Lance asks seriously. He’s done so well. He’s gone for so long. He can’t risk exposure now.

“Lance,” Shiro soothes, taking his hands in his own. “I would never do that. I just, I dunno, I wanted you to know you’re not alone. Your abilities are different than mine, but you have them. I have them. I thought, maybe, we could have them together? If you’d want to? Maybe?”

Lance’s hands are warm under the curl of Shiro’s fingers. His hands are soft, even when they really shouldn’t be. His face is soft, too, in the way it goes when he regards something he holds dear.

Lance gasps, putting the pieces together.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d want to.”

Shiro smiles up at Lance, squeezing his hand softly.

“You should make that tea, then. We have a lot to talk about.”

**Author's Note:**

> love potion number 9, amirite?!
> 
> come see me over on [tumblr](http://tootsonnewts.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/these_mortals) if you'd like!  
> have a good one!


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